


Perfect

by coveredbyroses



Series: Birthday Drabbles 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Dean tries to plan the perfect date.





	Perfect

Muffled thunder rumbles outside the reinforced walls of the bunker as you sit at the kitchen table opposite Dean. Your silver fork clinks against your plate as you set it down to sip at your wine.

“This is really good,” you say after a swallow, your eyes zeroing on Dean’s through the flickering candlelight.

“It’s shit,” Dean grumbles, lips bulging over his tongue as he sucks his teeth clean.

You sigh. He’s not exactly...wrong. Dean’s normally a fantastic cook––but this just doesn’t seem to be his night...

There’ve been sparks flying between you and the hunter for months now, both of you repeatedly dancing around it despite Sam’s annoyance. ‘Just tell him how you feel,’ he’d implored you after having had enough of being caught up in the suffocating tension between you and his brother.

It had taken quite a bit of alcohol before either of you could work up the nerve, but on a balmy July evening in Biloxi, Mississippi, the two of you had finally cleared the air.

You’d also wound up on your knees in a dirty stall in the men’s restroom with Dean’s cock in your mouth. But that’s a different story entirely.

Backwards as it is, it’s been two months since that night and you’d still yet to go on a proper date. And Dean had taken the whole thing on, ‘Just relax...take a long, hot bath. I’ve got everything covered…s’gonna be perfect,’ he’d said.

So you did. You’d taken your time; shaved everything because...well, because come on. You’d slipped on your cutest, fanciest, little black dress. The one usually reserved for hunts involving crashing formal events...fancy dinner parties, galas, and the like.

Hair? Good as it’s gonna get. Makeup? Damn near perfection.

Dean had been visibly blown away when your black-heeled feet clacked into the library. You’d even done a little twirl for him.

And he’d cleaned up nicely himself, deciding on his least worn blue-jeans (no tears that you could see), and a black button-down that offered you just the tiniest peek of that broad chest.

Things seemed to be going off without a hitch––until you stepped outside to the first low whisper of distant thunder.

“No! Goddammit, no!” Dean had roared at the graying sky.

“Dude!” you’d laughed, “it’s just a little rain. We won’t melt, I promise.”

“Picnic,” he gritted out. “I had a fucking surprise picnic––everything’s out there––food, wine...dammit!”

You’d both trudged back to the bunker several minutes later, soaked to the bone, arms filled with the ruined remnants of what was sure to be a romantic outdoor dinner.

So here you sit, hair slowly drying while you munch on Dean’s unusually subpar cooking.

You jump in your seat as dean throws his fork down with a loud clang and scrubs both hands over his face.

“I just...I just wanted tonight to be perfect,” he murmurs.

“Dean...” you start, voice gentle. “You’re trying too hard, babe...I mean, it’s sweet, and I really appreciate all of this…” you toss your hand about, gesturing at the candles and cuisine. You smile, locking your gaze onto his sparkling green eyes. “But I just want you. I don’t need all this.”

*****

Muffled thunder rumbles outside the reinforced walls of the bunker as Dean rocks into you, panting softly into sweat-damp crook of your neck. You mindlessly run your hands from his huge shoulders down the long, smooth expanse of his back as he rolls his hips against yours, stoking you higher and higher.

It doesn’t take long for you to come together, gasping and panting against each other’s lips.

“Well done, Dean,” you whisper. “Perfect date.”


End file.
